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hwasoup · 4 months

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Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs to listen along with: the beast, etc..

art credit goes to Marbipa

OMG guys, I literally hat to let this one sit and marinate for a while even though I typed it out like so long ago. AND I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO ADD THE SONGS FOR LAST CHAPTER, DW I DID THOUGH. Ugh and I literally also just found out that i had a textbook for a class, i didn't deep dive into the syllabus. AHHHHH regardless I hope you guys enjoyyy !! our favorite characters have finally met!!

like always tell me if you’d like to be tagged !!

prev | ch.4

warnings: wrongful incarceration, bargaining, yelling, really bad british slang, mexican spanish (im sorry y’all im venezuelan ☠️)

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 3: The Beast

After going through the thick woods, trusting Felipe to take her to where she needs to go…

Y/N makes it deep and far in the woods and stops Felipe from galloping when she spots her father’s wagon. She looks at all of the scattered food, items, and even his invention. In worry, she clutches on Felipe’s reins tightly and directs him to keep on going. After riding Felipe some time, the air gets thicker and fog covers the entirety of the forest. She then notices Felipe starting to trot and make his way down a gravel path. She looks around the dead trees and notices the large gates and the grand castle in front of her. “What is this place…” she says nervously. Felipe then starts nickering and anxiously moving as he didn’t want to go inside the gates. Y/N had to get off to comfort the horse and calm him down. After a few moments, she turns around and peeks inside the gate to see her father’s hat. She opens them and she reaches for the hat and holds it tightly in her hands, her worry now increasing for him. “Come on Felipe, we have to go inside”

She mounts the horse once more and goes inside the gate, going through the garden until she makes it to the steps of the castle. Y/N then gets off Felipe and carefully goes up the stairs, grabbing a large stick from the stairs as a weapon incase if she needs to defend herself. She then makes it to the top and carefully opens the door. Peering inside she walks in hesitantly, as she looks around.

“Look Jess…it's a pretty girl”

“I can see that Miles, I lost my hands.. Not my eyes”

Miles then peeks at Jess and whispers “but what if she’s the one who’ll break the spell ?” Y/N turns around confused at the sound of whispering “Who said that ?” She looks around to see nobody except for a candelabra and a clock. She quietly approaches the two of them looking at the inanimate figures confused at what she heard. Her thoughts however were shunned as she could hear her father’s cough from a distance. In her desperateness to find him, she takes the candelabra and goes to look for him. Jess looks at Miles being taken and she simply sighs.

Y/N follows the sound of coughing to a set of stairs, as she gets closer she then peers into a hall that goes up a tower. She anxiously walks up the stairs as she yells out “PAPA ??” She walks up the stairs faster as the coughing gets louder “ERES TU PAPA ??” Y/N then gets to the top of the tower and gasps seeing her beloved father inside a dungeon. She throws the stick to one side and places the candelabra on a nearby shelf and places it there. Y/N then gets on her knees as she looks at her father in relief after searching for him “Oh papa, que paso?? what happened to you, your hands are ice cold..” she says holding him tightly through the metal bars. Mauricio looks at her in awe and simply says “how did you even find me ?”

“That doesn’t matter, we need to get you home !”

“Y/N please…listen to me it’s not safe here, you must leave at once! This castle is alive !” he says in a whisper, tightly holding onto Y/N’s hands. Y/N looked at him confused until she heard a deep growl echoing in the distance. She grabs her stick once more from the floor and looks around the dungeon. She firmly grips onto the piece of thick wood, as she gains the courage to look around and protect herself and her father. “Who’s there, WHO ARE YOU ?”

“Who Are YOU?”

The voice of a man echoes throughout the dungeon, his silhouette appearing in the distance. “I’ve come for my father..” Y/N says with determination in her voice. The sound of someone coming down the stairs is heard in the dark dungeon. “Your Father….is a thief”. Enraged, Y/N yelled out “LIAR!” The silhouette has now fully come down the stairs and standing before her, his silhouette still only seen “He stole a rose..” Y/N raises an eyebrow appalled at his words “I asked for the rose, punish me not him !” Mauricio looks at his daughter and shakes his head “No, Y/N don’t… he means forever, apparently that’s what happens around here cuando uno elige una bendita rosa”

Y/N even more appalled turned to her father and back to the silhouette “A life sentence for a flower ?” A loud roar is heard as it approaches her even more, she steps back a little but not entirely to stand her ground despite the small shivers down her leg. “I received eternal damnation for one” the figure said, the growl in his voice becoming deeper. “Then take me instead” The figure growls and looks away and angrily says “YOU-” his expression then softly changes as he was shocked at how willing she was. “Tú....Tú tomarías su lugar?”

Y/N bites her lip and nods a whimper coming from her lips releases in her voice “If I did…would you let him go ?” The silhouette’s voice became a bit softer but still gruff in its dominant position “Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever” he says. Y/N looks down and blinks thinking of what to do next, she notices there’s a light right between them, separating the two from fully seeing each other. “Come into the light” she demands. The silhouette becomes smaller as she starts to see two large paws, she then looks up to see not a man but a beast with the horns of a goat, a thick mane that covered his entire body and crimson red eyes that peered into hers. Y/N covers her mouth in shock and turns to her father dropping the stick yet again to hold his hands. “No, Y/N to te puedo permitir que hagas esto”

Y/N kisses her father’s hands and approaches the Beast, her voice faltering to a whisper “you have my word..” The Beast then growls and opens the door dragging Mauricio out and pushing Y/N in, not even letting the two share a proper departure. He then drags Mauricio all the way out of the castle and throws him inside a carriage “Take him to the village” Mauricio cries out to him “SPARE MY DAUGHTER PLEASE!” The Beast ignores him and growls as he closes the carriage door “She’s no longer your concern…” Mauricio cries out to him to let him out, but The Beast was already walking back inside his castle.

After a moment, The Beast is seen walking back inside the castle on all fours with an annoyed expression on his face. Miles had already hopped down halfway to meet him. “So, Uh Sir ?”

“WHAT” the Beast growled out. Miles cowered a bit but then adjusted himself “soo uh since the girl is going to stay with us for quite some time, erm umm” he rubs his other two candles together “I was thinking that y’know you wanted too uhh, bring her to a more comfortable room” he says with a sheepish smile. The Beast growls at him and keeps walking up the stairs ignoring what he said. “Or not” Miles says.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Up in the tower after a week ….

Y/N wept as she whispered comforting words to herself. She thought about all of those times with her father, how he told her that home is where the heart is. But she wasn’t home, she was lonely and locked away. Her face drained as she thought of making the tiny dungeon her home, tears kept on spilling out as she thought about her poor father, all alone with nobody to lean onto in her terrible village.

She then sees a shadow loom over her and notices its The Beast. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye..I’ll never see him again..” her tears taint her cheeks that have been stained from the grime of the dungeon. “I-I’l never..see h-him again..” she says in between sobs. The Beast then looks at Y/N and a bit of guilt plagues his mind. He scratches his head and then considers what Miles told him earlier.. “I’ll show you to your room..” he says softly as he walks out the dungeon.

“My room? But I thought -”

“You, YOU wanna stay in the tower ?”

“No..” she says softly.

“Then follow me..” The Beast says.

The Beast then guides her out of the tower and back into the castle, taking Miles with him along the way so that he could light up the hallways. As Y/N is escorted, she looks around the castle and its statues and notices how dark and lonely the place seemed to be. Her eyes stare fearfully at a statue of a hideous gargoyle and speeds up to catch up with The Beast.

The Beast heard her gasp and looked behind to see a single tear falling down her cheek, he looked back in his direction as he felt a bit more guiltier. “You should say something to her y’know” Miles says softly. The Beast nodded and turned to her “I..uhh…I hope you like it here” he looked back at Miles to see if it was ok. Miles then looks at him encouraging him to say a bit more. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you would like…except the west wing.” Y/N’s curiosity perks up and she asks “what’s in the west wing ?” He growled out “IT'S FORBIDDEN”. His voice echoed out into the empty halls of the castle. He then takes her to a suite and opens the door for her. “If you need anything…my servants will attend you.” Y/N walks in and looks around the room. She then turns back to him and softly asks “but what’s your name ?” The Beast looks down as he didn’t want to remember his name, as he isn’t human or anything similar to his name. “It’s Miguel..”

Y/N nods as she looks back to the room and looks around. Miles then in a corner of Miguel’s viewpoint whispers “dinner, go invite her to dinner” Miguel nods and he tries to find the best way to speak to her “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER…Th-THAT”S NOT A REQUEST” he says gruffly as he slammed the door. Y/N in shock of his words looked back at the closed door and back to the room. Spotting the bed she runs towards it and throws herself onto the pillows and cries her heart out. She hasn’t even realized that it has already started snowing outside signifying the start of winter.

About a couple of hours later, There was a soft knocking on the door. Y/N who was too busy crying hears it and softly says “who is it ?” She then hears a man’s voice “Its, Peter” Y/N approaches the door and quietly opens it and peers outside. She didn’t see anyone until she saw a serving cart with a tea pot and a small cup. “Oh wow you’re very pretty ma’am” he says politely with a smile. “I thought you would like a small cup of tea” Y/N backs up surprised at the sight and bumps into the wardrobe. Hearing a voice from the wardrobe she looks at it in shock “ooh, watch it ‘ere mate” Y/N backs up to her bed and sits down surprised. “B-but, this is impossible!”

“I know mate, but ‘ere we are. Oh and the name’s Hobie” Y/N looks around in awe and surprise and just sits, processing the whole situation. The little teacup then spoke, “I told you she was pretty daddy!” Peter chuckles and pours some tea into his daughter “alrighty May, go and hand it to her, gently without spilling” Mayday happily hops to Y/N and waits for her to pick her up. “Why… Thank You” Y/N takes it softly. She then takes a sip of the tea and hums softly, enjoying the taste. “Wanna see me do a trick ??” Mayday then giggles as she breathes in and blows bubbles into the tea. She gets scolded quickly by her father though.

Peter chuckles and looks at Y/N. “Y’know, that took guts kid,” Hobie nods and agrees with him “the whole castle’s buzzin ‘bout it.” Y/N sighs in disappointment “but, I’ve lost my father, my dreams, I’ve lost almost everything..” Peter smiles and gives her a warm smile “aww, don’t worry kid, things always turn out better in the end.” Peter then realizes that he’s still supposed to be in the kitchen “oh crap, i forgot i’m supposed to be helping in the kitchen.. Anyways it was lovely meeting you” he says as the serving table wheels away from her room and leaves.

“Well now, let's get somefink good for youse to get dressed for the old geezer ‘ere.” Hobie then opens his drawers and sees some moths fly out “m’bad dovey” He then pulls out a nice dress for her and says “ ‘ere ya go, somefink pretty for you dovey” Y/N looks at the dress and smiles softly “oh, that’s very kind of you Hobie, but i’m not going to dinner” Hobie then shrugs and puts the dress back inside his drawers “aight then, youse definitely gonna make that geezer more laughable” he says. A small pattern is heard walking inside the room, Jess walked in and took a breath. “Come on honey, dinner’s waiting” she says trying to lighten up the mood.

Down at the dining table however, Miguel is pacing back and forth anxiously waiting for Y/N’s arrival. He then growls annoyed “What’s taking her so long ....I told her to come down…” He then looks at Miles and a smaller candle who’s named Lyla. “aww come on Miguel, you do realize that she’s literally lost her freedom and her dad like last week” Lyla says, stating the obvious. Miles then nods and says “soo uhh, Sir, Haven’t you thought that this girl.. Might be the one who could break the spell ?” MIguel looks up to the two candles “OF COURSE I HAVE..I’M NOT STUPID” Miles then smiles and says “Then you fall in love with her, sheee falls in love with you, and POOF! We’re human! We should be back to normal by midnight !” he says with a confident smile. Peter on the table however, digresses on the situation. “Miles buddy, it's not that easy y’know… these things take time” Miles then frowns and softly says “but, Peter ...the rose is already starting to wilt..”

Miguel then looks down and sits on all fours and grumbles “Oh, it’s no use..” he runs a paw through his large mane “it's just that she’s just so beautiful, and i’m well.. WELL LOOK AT ME” he says with a snarl. Peter then sighs and looks at Miguel “aww come on Miguel, you have to help her see through all of that” Miguel then growls lowly “I don’t know how” he says as his ears flatten to the sides. Lyla then grins and pitches in “then how about a quick lesson on how to be a gentleman 101: Sit up and try to be kind.” Peter smiles and also shares a few thoughts “oh then don’t forget to give her a sweet smile, come one show me one Migs” Miguel then proceeds to give the most toothiest and quite horrible smile, even Lyla had to step back a little out of surprise. “Now don’t scare her, charm her” Peter says. Miles then blurted out “Oh, OH and impress her with your intelligence!” Miguel looks at all four of them trying to absorb the information, his mind whirling at almost everything that he has to do, that just seemed utterly impossible. The quartet continued to bombard him with a whole bunch of manners until they all said at the same time “and the most important of all, CONTROL YOUR TEMPER!!!” Miguel wipes his face from the small bead of sweat that was forming.

Then, the sound of a door is heard opening, Miguel looks up in anticipation but is met with only Jess coming inside. “SO, evening everyone..” she says nervously. Miguel then raises an eyebrow “Well ? where is she ?” Jess takes a deep breath in, just knowing how Miguel is definitely going to react “soo, she’s…yea she’s not coming”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT ??!!!!”

Outraged, Miguel leaves the dining room and runs as quickly as his legs and hind legs could take him, all the way upstairs and into the east wing. Peter yells out “Nononono, WAIT MIGUEL !”

Miguel manages to outrun them and make it to Y/N’S door and basically smacks it as hard as he could “ I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER” y/n behind the door responds to him “I’m not coming” she says with a little huff in her voice. Miles, Lyla, Peter, and Jess just facepalm and shake their heads in disappointment. A sigh was even heard from behind Miguel from the huge letdown. “YOU BETTER COME OUT, OR I’M- YO VOY…VOY A ROMPER LA BENDITA PUERTA !”

Miles whistled and just said “so, just a quick suggestion , but uh….that really isn’t the best way to impress a girl..” Jess nods and sighs “Miguel just for once, can you actually just be polite to her?” Miguel gestured to the door “But, she is being so DIFFICULT” Peter then comes beside him and softly says “gently Miguel, you’re spooking her..” Miguel groans and lowers his tone at the door “Will you come down for dinner ?” he closes his eyes hoping that she would say yes to this tone in his voice. “No!” Y/N says.

Miguel’s eyes widened and his ears shot up in surprise and he gave a look pointing to the door as he tried to prove his point to the servants. Miles then says “suavemente y gentilmente…”

Miguel then takes a deep breath and tries again, “It would give me a great pleasure, if you would come out and join me for dinner.” He looks up to the door slightly hoping that she would come out this time…although his temper is starting to boil.

Jess coughs “COUGH- we say please- COUGH”

Miguel rolls his eyes and softly says please

Y/N simply says “NO, THANK YOU !” Everyone watching the interaction watches in shock as they know he’s going to blow.

Miguel then belts out “YOU CAN’T STAY IN THERE FOREVER”.

Y/N on the other side of the door yells out “QUE SI!”

Miguel snarls and roars out “FINE THEN GO STARVE FOR ALL I CARE PINCHE DESGRACIADA”

He looks down to his servants “IF she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all” Miguel then growls out and runs off away to his room into the west wing. He opens the door annoyed and just grumbles to himself “I ask nicely but she refuses, like que quiere?? que yo hago? BEG ??” In a flurry of rage, he goes to a table where the enchanted rose is encased in a glass dome. Beside it is his magic mirror that was gifted by the enchantress. Miguel then grabs his magic mirror and looks into it “ensename la niña”

The mirror then glows a greenish blue color and shows him y/n sitting in bed being comforted by Hobie. “Aww come on Dovie, the old bloke ain't so bad..” Y/N however was sitting in bed dejected and not too convinced. “I don’t want to though...I don’t even want to do anything with him!” Miguel, shocked, puts down the mirror as he feels that same familiar feeling of hopelessness takes over his mind “who am I fooling…she’ll never see me as anything other than .... than a monster” he says as his voice shakes. He looks at the rose and sees a petal that slowly fell down and wither making the castle shake and crumble a bit.

“It’s hopeless…”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n, @badbishsblog, @faimmm, @opalwitchart,

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #spiderman miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel 2099

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coentinim · 2 months

Text

Crime scene

ADULT + DARK CONTENT - MDNI !

JPM is beautiful in the act of killing, how can his wife not appreciate that?

Contains: descriptions of murder (not of reader), gore, blood, sexual content (at a fresh crime scene), you are (almost) as deranged as him, you are married to him, dead dove - please feast <3

I am not responsible for what you see on the internet!

Edit: forgot to tag people T_T

@fear-is-truth @taintandviolent @feefymo @slutforgarlogan @silverzoomies @yandereunsolved @maeriavizsendingjpmdose @evanpetersbf @carniv0reev

You heard it again. Those screams, those ear piercing, mind shattering screams of some poor soul being gutted alive. Supposedly, the walls were soundproof, but you could hear well and clear the wails of another one of James' victims in the next room. Perhaps the wall connecting your rooms was the only one he didn't line with asbestos... and on purpose for sure. He wants you to hear.

A young woman - no older than 25, judging by the noise - was currently being sliced open slowly and deliberately by your husband's hand. After only being married to him for a few weeks, you could already tell apart the screams of terror before a quick death and pained, tortured wails of a slow one. And during this time, you've grown accustomed to this peculiar hobby of his, even fond of it at times. His bloodlust and cruelty were undeniably fascinating, and having the honour of being the only person he never wished to harm was something to cherish. His debauchery was just contagious, really!

Curiosity had overcome you, and you decided to check what exactly was your beloved doing as he worked. And oh, were you amazed at the sight when you entered his room.

The screaming was so much louder and clearer here, begs for mercy - even for a quicker, painless death - made for a terrifying noise, but you paid them no mind. Oh no, you focus was on your husband only. He was a true artist, the way he worked the woman's body like it was an instrument, a work of art for art's sake, a horrible perversion of what a piece should look like. A bloody image it was - James was cutting all over her skin, ignoring the wails, and carving flesh with quick, steady strokes of the knife. You couldn't help but come closer, almost beside him, and you made your presence known by walking into his line of sight. He raised his eyes from the half-dead girl to you and you noticed his expression. He did not look human, not even one bit. His eyes were widened, pupils engorged and cheeks flushed bright red. He wore the mask, the strange mask you didn't know the purpose of that made him look like a horrible monster mothers warn their children about. He did not wear the apron he usually did, though. His white shirt (one of the informal, "not as good ones", you recalled) was half unbuttoned and stained crimson with the explosions of the woman's blood. In the act, he looked like a beast. He was panting when he stopped skinning the woman to gaze at you.

"My darling, I didn't- hah, disturb you, did I?"

His voice from behind the metal and leather sounded different, too. Savage. Inhuman.

"No, Jimmy, I was just curious..."

You gazed at the wailing woman on the table. Dear god, she was a mess... her arms and thighs were a mosaic of cuts, some more refined and artistic, some deep and rough, careless. She was almost bare, her under dress riding up enough to only cover her breasts, and only a small pair of knickers on her bottom. You hummed in approval; James listened to your rules against seeing his victims naked unless necessary. But you quickly turned your attention to her stomach, because that was certainly a sight to behold! Around the navel, there were a few deep lacerations, one of them definitely deep enough to penetrate muscle and cut into the intestine. The blood flowing out in rhythm with the erratic pulses of her heart covered her pristine underwear, making her look downright pornographic. It wasn't hard to understand his savage interests in such moments - the bloody, shining gash on her stomach was a curious sight, to say the least. It truly looked nasty; that must be why she was writhing in pain so much. She seemed to beg for your help, but it was unintelligible - besides, there was no saving her now, she had lost too much blood. Not that you would have saved her otherwise - she would just run to the nearest police officer and get you and your husband arrested. Accepting James might be hard at times, but seeing him executed while people leered at his undeniably painful demise would have been much harder. He was hard to love, and hard to let go of.

You trailed your hand over her split stomach, ignoring the thrashing and protests.

"May I?", you asked.

James' eyes lightened up even more, humanity mixing with the animal in him.

"Would I ever deny my darling wife to share my pleasures?", he replied in his syrupy voice distorted by the metal mask, the terrifying sound making your head spin. He was the only one who could scare you yet make you feel so safe.

You kept looking him in the eyes, barely visible under the eye protection, while slowly putting two fingers into the woman's wound. You were terrified, but you just wanted to tease your James just a bit, just a tad... It was wonderful. The quiet, pained screech, the blood exploding under your fingertips and the pulse of her insides. It felt like touching something slimy, is that what James felt upon fingering your cunt? He absolutely adores doing it, and now you see why; the texture is nothing short of divine. Your ministrations had a great effect on your husband, as he started panting and gripped the edge of the table the woman was sprawled on. Oh, he was hungry like a wolf at that moment. You let go of the victim's body after just two seconds, slightly disgusted with yourself, observing your bloodied hand and James' face. It was hard to see anything but his nose and eyebrows through the mask, but you knew he was more aroused than ever. In fact, you feared him. He was terrifying in his murderous attire, even more so now that his body language radiated pure hunger. You held his killer gaze for a few long seconds until something made him glance away. Right. The woman.

To your surprise, she was still making noises despite the blood loss. James walked right past you, close to her face, and held her cheek almost tenderly. Her gaze was unfocused, but she tried to squirm away from his touches. In response he just gripped her chin tight and tutted at her hazy thrashes. He raised his blade and sliced her neck open, so deep the blood exploded in his face. She went quiet rather quickly after that.

You saw him kill a dozen times, yet it always stunned you just how predatory it looked. His muscles taut, the vulgar display of vitality, as if he absorbed the life force of his newest victim.

Slowly, James turned to face you. He was dead silent, and at that angle you couldn't see his eyes. Your instinct told you to back away, so, naturally, you stepped forward, your thighs slick with arousal from the fear and guilt.

The growl that came from his throat was definitely unexpected. But more surprising was his direct action - he gripped your shoulders tightly and led you into the chaise-lounge next to the table. He pushed you hard onto it, making you gasp, and he pressed your shoulders to the soft pillows as if you were to be another victim. That particular thought went straight to your pussy.

"James... maybe after you clean up after yourself?", you suggested in the most sultry voice you could. Ah, did you have to tease him so much? He was impatient, after all! The tension from the kill had to be resolved somehow.

"Nonsense, dove-" he was already pulling up your gown, "I need to take my fellow murderess... now "

You bit your lip, nervous. Were you really a murderess?... that girl was already half dead when you touched her wound! You were merely an accomplice, and...

Oh, you forgot you didn't wear any panties until you felt the cold air hit your pussy. He gripped your thighs and left blood handprints all over, making you forget your guilt. Your dress was all red now, too, as he used it as some sort of napkin to clean himself after his meal. He was savage today, but even now he remembered to at least taste you before taking you. He attempted to take off his mask and you whined.

"James... no, keep it"

He chuckled darkly. Then, he spoke with his metallic, leathery voice:

"Oh? If that is to your tastes, dearest wife..."

He wasted no more time after that. He almost ripped the silky dress off in his hurry, and slipped out of his pants with an impatient growl. Oh, you looked like a prey ready to be ravaged. He groped you all over before sinking his painfully hard cock inside you, leaving bloody handprints on your waist and breasts and neck. You looked like a masterpiece of pain. You whined, the stretch was pretty painful despite your wetness. He looked like a feral beast above you; his terrifying mask making him look like a strange monster taking you all for himself. The thought felt so erotic you could barely stand it, and you whined. Oh, his girth felt so invigorating...

He fucked the same way he killed. Impatiently, roughly, and yet meticulously, both in control and completely out of it. His moans were distorted by the mask, and it felt as if he was all around you, he was in your brain as much as in your cunt. It felt divine, to be violated by that beastly killer, by your beloved husband. Sweet, honeymoon lovemaking with him was terrific, but the desecrating pace he treated you with right now was a feeling no other man could recreate. You gripped his shoulders, staining the back of his shirt with your bloodied fingers, bringing his body closer. Each thrust was punctuated by your obscene moans; he slid himself in at a slightly upward angle, hitting your sweet spot hard each time.

You whined and whined, and he slid his bloody fingers past your parted lips, making you taste his victim’s blood. Your guilt was all-encompassing, yet it felt so good to give in, even just once. Morality was for the stupid, uneducated folk, James used to say. Regulations, rules, faith; all of it is supposed to limit freedom of thought and action. You believed every word of his, no matter how ridiculous it all sounded in the context of his serial murders.

He always knew when you were close, always knew just how and when to toy with your pussy with his red hands and when to edge himself so you two finish at the same time. He had a thing for it, it felt like unity, like your bodies were truly one.

You thought he would never kill you, but he did it quite frequently. You died a little death many times with him, unravelling beautifully under his strong body, core exploding with spasms and locking his seed deep in you. You two came as one, him filling you up, making your mixed releases drip down and combine with all the blood. In this moment, you were his victim and he was your killer, taking you from life and lifting your soul up, or maybe dragging it down to hell, for a few seconds of blissful pleasure.

You always envied his victims. Oh to see his face as the last thing before you fade away, oh to feel him inside you as you pass! The blood all over your body, his mask and the body nearby made you feel such eroticism and guilt...

He pulled out with a whine and tucked himself into his pants, pulling your dress over your dirty body soon after. The casual nature of the situation made your head spin in confusion. That was it?... he can just get up like that, like nothing happened? You were panting, staring at his body, beautiful and shiny with sweat. He took his mask off, revealing a devilish grin.

“Miss Evers! Bring me fresh linens and draw a bath for my wife, would you?”

#james patrick march #ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #james march #james march x reader #jpm #jpm x reader #evan peters #kai anderson #kit walker #ahs fanfiction #ahs x reader

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phantom-dc · 1 year

Text

A deal with the Ghost King

Part1 Part3 AO3

Bruce was concerned. Last night, the world had been on the brink of destruction. A flaming, Kryptonite meteorite had been on a collision course with Eart. No one was able to handle it, and the League had grown desperate. Many, Bruce included, had brought their friends and families in an attempt to save them. It was then they had agreed to let Constantine summon the mighty Ghost King.

But they had failed. The Ghost King had rejected their offer of souls, and demanded a better offering. The League had scrambled to come up with something valuable enough to please it. But before they could try again, the King had vanished, and the meteorite had been destroyed. After the initial shock and relief had worn off, Constantine had demanded awnsers. Someone had made a deal, but no one knew who. While Batman checked the camera's, Flash asked around if anyone had seen anything. No one had, and the Ghost King's presence interfered with the camera's. A deal had been made with the God of the dead, and no one knew what had been offered. Constantine made it clear that if anyone of the League noticed anything amiss to call him immediatly, and it was well known how much Constantine hates being on call. So Bruce decided to patrol a bit earlier then usual, right after dark. He had been on his balcony, as the sun had just set, casting the city in darkness.

Then the sky was filled with familiar green/blue lights.

----

Red Hood was following the Aurora Borealis on his bike. Jason had been worried when he realised he and Phantom had forgot to exchange phone numbers, but it seems he has no trouble making his presence known. Jason was sure the whole city could see it! Noticing the light rippled from Gotham cemetery outward (because of course a ghost-themed hero would pick that spot) Jason got there so fast he doubted the Flash couldve done better.

When he parked his bike, Phantom had noticed him and waved. When he floated closer however, he seemed confused. 'Wait, you're the Red Hood?' Jason realised he hadn't been wearing his iconic helmet in the Watchtower, and got a bit nervous. Had Phantom been unaware of the blood on his hands? Suprisingly, Phantom got excited: 'That's amazing! You're my favorite hero!' Jason was suprised: 'Really?' 'Yes! So many ghosts found peace because you avenged them. You're like a celebrity in the Realms!' Not used to the praise, Jason switched topics: 'So where do you wanna go? Honestly, it's kinda late and I don't think much is open now.' Phantom apologises. He wasn't certain his aura would have been visible in the sun. But he came prepared! Holding up a picnick basket, he suggest they visit the park chat so they can get to know eachother a bit better. Jason liked the plan. 'Let's go then, ghost boy.'

----

Looks like I'll have to split the date up in different parts! Enjoy the wild goose chase!

Edit: I am no longer tagging as I teached the limit and the story is on AO3, sorry.

@alice-hazelwood @spookytragedyshark @vythika96 @willak @sjrose1216 @shorterthanadverage @bruh-incoming @desertbogwitch @bun-fish @anon-ymous22 @overtherose @dracotheghostdragon @treepainting @the-church-grimm @emotional-otter @zelabee @smilingfox22-blog @vampiredp94 @leftmiraclechaos @impulsiveasshole @babbling-babull @wordsgohere95 @theamazingfox @regressor-marina @raspberry-muffin @scribbiesan-main @satanicrutialspecialist @meira-3919 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @terzatheunderscorerima @some-rotten-nest @wrenofthedumbasses @is-this-even-relatable @olivethetreebitch @my-mom-calls-me-rat @darlingatlas @blazeart @gunebugfic @chaos-n-kindness @elvesandlanterns @asphyxia778 @fantasticbluebirdfan @mj-arts-n-stuff @nappinginhell @slapphapp1 @undead-essence @seraphinedemort @enderglace @wildbacon-blog @mark-the-snark

#batman #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #ghost king danny #dead on main #dp x dc prompt

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thesunisatangerine · 27 days

Text

playing for keeps – chapter three

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, light angst

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]

word count: 8.8k

[1]

Just before you turned thirteen your body, finally, began to change.

While Alexia’d gone ahead of you a year prior—with her limbs now lanky and sinewy, and her muscles stretched close to the newly grown bones—you were left behind. She’d grown taller, yes; not by much but the two-inch difference (two and a half, as Alexia was always inclined to remind you) felt like a foot to you. So the change was welcome when it finally started, and more importantly, it happened to coincide with something that completely altered the trajectory of your life.

During the spring after your birthday, your father got a promotion at work. To celebrate this milestone, he took you and your mother for a trip around Europe. And as a gift for your hard work and for getting into La Masia with Alexia just a few months before, your parents surprised you with tickets to at least one game in the country, or area, you were visiting.

In Gelsenkirchen, Germany, you found your destiny.

Or at least that was how you liked to look at it.

Before seeing the match between Schalke 04 against Stuttgart, the idea of keeping never entered your mind; you’d played forward your whole life, and you thought that would be the position you’d play in professionally. But as you saw Manuel Neuer controlling the outcome of the game with his hands, a spark ignited within you—this overwhelming surge—and right there and then, you were enlightened to the art of keeping. That spark returned home with you and, playing into the hands of fate, your journey to keeping began.

[2]

The crescendo of the cicadas’ song was this close to lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help that Alexia’d curled herself up beside you in your bed, her head on your lap while her math notebook laid forgotten at the foot of the bed, and her eyes already closed. It was a rare occurrence for the both of you and even more so for Alexia to ‘slack off’—if you were to put it as Alexia had—but this afternoon was a particularly hot one. Summer had practically bled into spring, and even someone like Alexia clearly wasn’t immune to its soporific effect.

The numbers from the homework you were working on began to blur when you heard a knock downstairs. Out of curiosity or just surprise, you snapped awake. And so did Alexia, apparently.

“You expecting someone?” Alexia yawned, stretching out her long limbs before settling over to her other side. The movement made a lock of hair fall to her cheek which you brushed away with the back of your finger.

“No, it’s probably Mamá’s.” You hummed in answer, relaxing down on your pillow to finally chase that nap that continued to tempt you.

But then came your mother’s voice, “Guille! Hello, my boy! How are you?”

Alexia let out a startled yelp when you jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, tripping on the rug as you rushed into the closet.

“What the hell? What are you doing?!” Alexia hissed with annoyance but you were too busy trying to get changed to address it.

You snatched the closest pair of shorts and jersey shirt, and began to shed the ones you had on before you slipped the fresh ones on in quick succession.

As you did, you began to explain, “I completely forgot! I was supposed to meet up with Guille today!”

When your head popped out of your shirt, you found a deep crease between Alexia’s brows. She was sitting in the middle of your bed, cross-legged, looking very much like a disgruntled cat woken from a nap with the way her hair stuck out in odd places.

She looked adorable.

You bit your tongue before you could say it.

Crossing her arms, Alexia retorted, “Why? It’s Saturday.”

The tone she used made it seem that today being a Saturday was a valid enough reason for you to not go.

“And it is because it’s Saturday—and no training, Alexia—that I can go with him.”

At that, her frown only seemed to deepen. You had half a mind to tease her but you knew that’d probably just piss her off even more, although if you were being honest, you didn’t understand just why this seemed to bother Alexia so much. So instead of teasing, you tried a placating tone, “You could come with if you want?”

Alexia opened her mouth, “I—”

Your mother’s shout cut through the air.

“Honey? Guille is here for you!”

You sent Alexia one last apologetic glance.

“I’m really sorry! Please stay for dinner! I’ll be quick!”

And with a quick hug goodbye, you rushed out of your room and practically flew down the stairs. At the bottom, you found Guille leaning against the bannister, hands in his short pockets, with a small rucksack on his back who, upon seeing you, gave you a bright smile.

“Hey! You look—” He began but then suddenly, his eyes darkened and the quirk of his lips turned upside down, his tone flattening, “Oh. You’re here.”

In the same second you noticed Alexia beside you, Alexia’d slung an arm over your shoulders.

“Lovely to see you as always, Guille. And I could say the same about you.” Alexia deadpanned, flashing Guille a smile full of teeth, her eyes void of any warmth as she stared at him down her nose. Then she turned to you, her face lighting up as she asked with a little too much excitement, “So, are we going or not?”

“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Guille blurted out, but before you could even answer, Alexia left your side and ran down the steps.

“Of course, Guille! Come on, keep up!” Alexia exclaimed on her way out of the door, tapping Guille’s stomach as she did—not without force apparently with the way Guille expelled air out harshly.

When you got to him, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He let out a strained, “Yes.”

You gave Guille an apologetic look, grabbing your ball bag.

“I’m really sorry for the last minute change. I’ll make it up to you.”

Still clutching his stomach, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

The three of you got to the field near your place—which you were glad to find empty—without any more incidents. You were faced with another problem as it was only after you’d begun warming up that you realized that in your haste to leave, you forgot to bring water with you. When you told Alexia, she offered to go to the nearest corner store to buy some.

You stretched as you waited for Alexia’s return when Guille suddenly said behind you.

“Here.”

Turning, you found him holding a paper parcel bag. You considered his outstretched hand with curiosity before you met his eyes, taking the bag from him slowly. “What’s this?”

“Just a little something to get you started,” he answered, scratching the back of his head. “You said you wanted to keep, so I thought you’d need them.”

Peering into the bag, you gasped at what you found inside.

A new pair of keeper gloves.

“Guille, you didn’t have to!”

He shrugged, smiling, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”

“Thank you! Come here, you big baby!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him. Unlike Alexia, Guille was only taller than you by mere centimeters so it was relatively easy to ruffle his hair as you pulled away.

“Mess up my hair again and I won’t teach you anything,” He threatened with a faux glare as he swept his fingers through his curling locks in an attempt to tame them.

You rolled your eyes, grinning at him. “Okay, Antonio Banderas. So, what are the basics?”

He imitated you, rolling his eyes before he shook his head slightly, his smile never leaving his lips. Then he pointed to a spot by the goal line. “Put your gloves on and stand right there.”

You did, noting the way your new gloves fit perfectly over your hands and fingers. It felt different—stuffy—and you could already feel your palms beginning to sweat from the trapped heat. When you stood where Guille pointed, he walked around you all the while he instructed you to correct your posture: he told you keep your feet shoulder-width apart, to bend your legs slightly so that your chest was just past your knees, and to hold your palms facing out.

“The main thing to worry about starting out is your stance. It will take time to get the balance right but once you get it down, you’re set.”

“Is this alright?”

Guille took a step back and he gripped his chin as he hummed. After a moment of scrutiny, he nudged you back suddenly. It wasn’t quite forceful but it made you tumble down on your rear all the same.

You smiled at him sheepishly, getting up. “I guess that’s a no?”

“Yep. It looks like you keep your weight on your heels too much.” He crouched down at your feet, drawing a square over the front half of your foot. “Keep your weight spread out around here and you should—”

Guille scrambled back suddenly, yelping as a football went flying past where he was just a second ago and into the net. Turning to the direction where the ball came from with your mouth agape, you found Alexia there with water bottles clasped to her chest, an eyebrow raised, while one corner of her mouth was set in a bemused droop, another ball rolling beneath her left foot.

“What the hell was that for, asshole?!” Guille shouted as he stormed his way over to Alexia. He was in front of her now, looking up at her with flame in his eyes but Alexia remained unfazed. She put the water bottles down before she settled her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly to the side.

“I’m sorry, Guille. I didn’t see you.” Alexia said flatly, “And aren’t you supposed to be playing keeper?”

“Really. You didn’t see me? Besides—”

“Ale, I asked Guille to teach me.” You huffed, running in between them and separating them with your arms before things got out of hand—again.

This wasn’t the first time this… row between them happened. In fact, you noticed it’s been occurring more frequently lately. For all their similarities—the main one being their short tempers—the two never got on well together for reasons you never really understood and the only thread that tied them together was you.

They weren’t always like this though; they were nice with each other the first time they’d met. Guille transferred to your school not long after you’d joined Sabadell, and if you and Alexia were inseparable there, it was always you and Guille at school. And when an opportunity arose for your two favorite persons to meet, you took it. It went well; they were friendly with each other. You only noticed things had changed after you and Guille’s school team started playing against Alexia’s so you were never sure when this all started, and by that point, the friction between them was too great to smoothen out which both saddened and disappointed you.

And it wasn’t like you never tried to get to the bottom of it. You’d asked them what happened, they both gave similar answers. By that, you meant completely avoiding answering.

Guille’d assured you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re friends? Don’t worry.”

While Alexia’d said with a confused frown, “What do you mean? Nothing happened.”

And when you pestered her, asked her if the reason was because she liked Guille as a joke, she looked at you without reply, and when next practice came, she made a nuisance of herself enough to let you know the answer to your question and more.

And here you were again, with them acting like this–always at each other’s throats.

At your answer, Alexia looked at you, confused. “Why would you ask him to teach you how to keep?”

Your gaze lanced away as you bit your lip.

Maybe you should’ve told her after all…

Mustering up the courage to meet her eye again, you replied, low and serious. “I want to start playing keeper, Alexia.”

Alexia blinked, and then she crossed her arms before she eyed Guille who was scowling at her in return. She looked at you again.

“Have you told Alejandro about this?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A pause. “What did he say?”

“I’ll still start as a forward. But he said he’ll put in some extra technical sessions for me starting next week which was why I asked Guille to help me get started. Alejandro said if I get good enough, he’ll see if I can start as keeper for the team.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you three.

You caught Guille’s eyes darting from you to Alexia and back again from the corner of your eyes but you remained focused on Alexia’s face. At a glance, Alexia might seem calm—impassive with the way all of her features remained flat. But her eyelids drooped just so they hid more than half of her pupils, how her lower lip was slightly concealed beneath the upper one; she was pissed and even worse, she was hurt. And knowing that you’d hurt her was enough to compel you to reach out and touch her arm, apologetic.

Alexia regarded you for a moment longer. Another word of apology was on the tip of your tongue when she finally sighed, the corner of her lips tilting up to a half-smile as she spoke softly. “Okay. How can I help?”

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around her and it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest upon hearing the chuckle she let out.

The next couple of hours were spent with the three of you working together: Guille by the goal who continuously gave you notes and instructions, while Alexia—upon Guille’s signal—would send some shots to the net so you could try and stop them. The first… fifty or so shots went right past you—going easy was never exactly Alexia’s strong suit—but the more you focused on getting the timing right and reading the language of Alexia’s body to anticipate the direction of the ball, you ended the session with a few decent saves.

It was a rough start but you were satisfied with it.

You’d left to use the restroom but upon coming back, the two of them were bickering once more.

Oh, no. What was it now?

You heard more of their words the closer you got, but you didn’t have to move too close with the way they were shouting.

“Come on, dude! Please, don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that? It was a fair match!”

“How was that fair, Alexia? The two of you playing together is never fair! You’re both in La Masia for crying out loud! And even more importantly, she was supposed to be on my team! That was the original plan, but you went ahead and took her away!”

“What made you think I took her away?” Alexia crossed her arms, scoffing. “Let’s face it. She likes to play with me more than you.”

“You don’t know that!”

That was the moment Alexia spotted you and before you could even get a word in, she said, “Why don’t we just ask her who she’d rather play with?”

Two sets of intense eyes looked your way and without meaning to, you gulped, taking a step back.

“So? Who would you rather play with: me or her?” Guille asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Suddenly feeling like you were backed into a corner, you stammered in your panic, “Umm, I—”

[3]

Alexia stayed over for dinner that night. That was normal; what was unusual was she left you alone to do the dishes. You had a feeling where she might be, especially since she’d been mostly quiet throughout the whole evening.

After you put away the last dish in the cupboard, and when your arms were finally free from suds, you took a peek into the living room. She wasn’t there—a confirmation of her whereabouts.

Putting on your flip flops, you headed out of the back door.

The light from the living room casted a faint glow that dissipated the darkness around the garden when you opened the door that led out to it, aiding you just enough to see Alexia on the swing, sitting still with her back hunched forward. Once you were just a few paces behind her, you saw the contours of her headset, but even with them on, there was no way she didn’t know you were there—the fact that your shadow stretched to reach her before you did was a dead give away. Yet still, she made no move to acknowledge your presence.

Okay. That was fair.

“Ale,” you said softly.

She gave you a glance before she went back to looking down at her clasped hands.

“Alexia, come on.”

Still no response. You fiddled with your thumbs as the moment dragged on.

You sighed, sitting down on your heels next to her.

“I should’ve told you about the keeper thing,” you muttered. “I wanted to get a feel for it first, to get a bit better at it before I told you. But I didn’t consider how that would make you feel… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that I didn’t want or need you by my side, Alexia. I wanted you to think I was good enough for this.”

Finally, Alexia turned to you, taking her headset off, the movement barely above a whisper. And softly, she spoke, “What made you think that I’ll think you’re not good enough for anything?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, pulling at the grass in front of you. Your mother would probably see the hole you’d made on the lawn and berate you for it in the morning but you needed something to keep your hands busy. “I just wanted to go through this without too many expectations. And it’s not like I don’t want to keep our dynamic going. I love playing forward with you, Alexia, but I think keeping is my calling, just like midfield is to you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand. You didn’t want any added pressure. I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled at her. Then, “So, tell me why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking!” Alexia huffed with indignation. Then she looked away again, working her lower lip between her teeth.

You put a hand on her knee. “Alexia, what is it?”

“I…” Alexia sighed, brushing the bridge of her nose with her thumb. You gave her another moment. She heaved another breath before she began.

“That thing you said… Did you really mean it when you said you’d rather play with him than me?”

Oh. So that was what this was about.

“Of course not. We both know it’s always going to be you, Alexia.”

“Then why did you tell him that?”

“I feel like if I didn’t, I’d lose him as a friend.”

“And you’re not worried about losing me?” Alexia cried out, her tone inflected while her eyes reflected her hurt.

You blinked at her.

There were moments—just like now—where you’d feel a sudden urge to shake Alexia. For all her sharpness and unmatched awareness, she sometimes failed to see even the most obvious of things. Couldn’t she see that you loved her and that you’d follow her to the edge of the earth if she asked you to?

At the absurdity of her question, you really couldn’t help but laugh. You stood up and shuffled behind her before you threw your arms around Alexia’s neck, draping yourself over her broad back, which made the swing move forward. The dampness of her hair felt cool against your cheek, the scent of your shampoo that clung to them filled your senses as you chuckled into her ear.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

“Because, Alexia, do you hear yourself? I love you, you idiot!” You giggled again. “I know our friendship isn’t that shallow that I’d lose you over this. Or am I wrong?”

Alexia turned her head and you saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “No, I suppose not.”

A pleasant silence blanketed you both. And then Alexia hummed.

“But if there was something that could break us, what do you think it would be?”

You stopped to ponder, twirling a lock of Alexia’s hair with your finger, noting her hair was nearly dry now. When your mind drew blank, you replied nonchalantly, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Good.” Alexia leaned away so she could give you a lopsided smile—an earnest one. “Because me neither.”

[4]

“—you okay?”

You blinked and turned to Alexia. “Hmm?”

She glanced at you for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed a plate in the soapy water in the sink.

“I said, are you okay? Is there something wrong? You’ve been out of it since practice.” When a moment of silence lapsed, Alexia added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you on your swing the past few days, too, because I did.”

You looked out the window and watched how the rain sluiced down the glass pane. In the darkness behind the window, you saw glimpses of soaked, curly locks and heard the hasty confession all over again.

You sighed, blinking the memory away.

“Guille asked me out.”

The sound of glass shattering and metal clanging made you jump, and you watched as a casserole pot twirled like a top on the hard, kitchen floor, while fragments of a broken plate skittered out to different directions.

“Oh, shit!” Alexia cursed, looking down at the mess, while a voice called out from the living room.

“Alexia, is everything alright in there?'' Came Eli’s voice. A few seconds later, Jaume’s head popped into the kitchen. He glanced at you then his eyes settled on Alexia who was crouched down, looking up guiltily at her father.

“Are you okay, girls?”

“Yes, Papá. I just… dropped some stuff.” Alexia said. You crouched down, too, about to pick up a fragment when Jaume spoke.

“Don’t pick that up, love, you might cut yourself. I’ll do it.”

Jaume shooed the two of you to a corner he deemed safe and the both of you watched as he picked up the pieces, throwing them in the bin by the back door. Afterwards, he gave Alexia a kiss on her temple, and you a hug and a ruffle to your hair, as he retired for the evening, leaving the two of you again in your own company. Alexia went back to the sink to finish up whatever was left, and you returned to your place on the counter beside her.

The silence that intruded was cut short by Alexia when she cleared her throat, “So… what did you say?”

“I haven’t said anything, yet,” you sighed again, looking back out the window, the questions coming back full force. In the eight years you’d known Guille, how long had he harbored those feelings for you? When did it happen? What did you do to make him feel that way?

“Do you like him?” Alexia’s question brought you back to the present.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want him?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” You laughed slightly, glancing back at Alexia who shrugged her shoulders in answer.

“No, I don’t think so. Desire is a drive, like it makes you want to act. Attraction is just… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a weaker feeling. And they complement each other but they’re not the same.”

“And you know this how exactly?” You asked her teasingly, a brow raised.

Alexia averted her eyes, and shrugged your question off with a laugh.

In the moment of silence that followed, you traced Alexia’s profile, and your gaze ended at the elegant curve of the bow of her lips. She looked so pretty casted in the candescent glow of the kitchen light that it made your chest ache just by looking at her. You dropped your eyes to your feet as your mind ran faster than before this entire conversation happened.

Clutching your arms tightly across your chest, you muttered, “I don’t know what I want.”

[5]

Maybe hoping it would all turn out fine was a bit naive because naturally, Guille didn’t take your rejection well. It was your fault really for expecting otherwise but nevertheless, the inevitable discomfort of disappointment settled like lead in your gut.

The thing was, you were ready to give Guille the space he needed to accept your boundaries—friends, or nothing at all—and to heal. But accusing Alexia of making you turn against him? Now, that was something you couldn’t let pass.

He knew he’d crossed a line, too, with the way he kept avoiding you. At first, the silence didn’t bother you; he was hurt, after all. But when the apology never came, you understood that you’d be going through your last year of high school without your closest friend there by your side.

A fortnight passed without any word from him so it surprised you when he showed up at the local meetup that the three of you used to go to. He refused to meet your eyes but he had no problem leveling with the glares Alexia kept giving him. And when you ended up in Alexia’s team, the only sign of his distaste about it was the way his lips flattened to a line. He looked like he was about to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he turned around and made his way to his teammates.

With one last look at Guille’s retreating back, you tuned back in your team’s conversation.

“—doesn’t need to play keeper. We need her more in the offensive.” Alexia said evenly but when you met her eyes, there was a clear question in them.

You gave her a slight nod to let her know you were okay.

She nodded back.

“How will that work? She’s the better keeper.” And then Marco added, “No offense, Julia.”

Julia only shrugged carelessly, a gesture of nonchalance.

“Julia is perfectly fine and besides, with you, Benji, and Carmen, our backline is already strong. The four of you together lessens our chance of conceding.” Alexia paused, looking over her shoulder to the other team before she faced you all again, continuing, “Our priority is the offensive. What good is a strong backline if we can’t counterattack? That’s why I’m suggesting she play as forward in the meantime, while Martina and I will play as interiors. Does that make sense?”

A collective nodding occurred.

“So just to clarify, we’re playing three–two–one?” Benji asked.

Alexia hummed, nodding her head. “Mostly. If we find the space and some opportunities, we can easily do three–one–two.”

“No pressure on us defenders, right?” Carmen said with a laugh, if not with a hint of nerve.

Everyone laughed but at the end of it, Alexia placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “No pressure because you guys, as I said, are very strong. You got this.”

Carmen smiled at Alexia at that, nodding before she finally moved to her spot. As you and Alexia moved towards the middle of the pitch, Guille was introduced to your line of sight, and a weight pressed in your gut. Disappointment? Perhaps. Or maybe you just actually missed talking and hanging out with him.

Alexia’s teasing tone pulled away your attention from Guille. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to play forward from all the keeping you’ve been doing.”

“Four years of keeping against the five years of playing forward? You need to brush up on your math ‘cause I think you’ve forgotten how to count.” You said dryly, giving her a look so dirty that had her throwing her head back in laughter.

Alexia leveled you with an unimpressed look but her tone remained playful. “You are such a bitch sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. I do try, you know. It’s my only defense against your smart-mouth.”

“Stop denying you don’t like my teasing.” Alexia waggled her brows as she smirked. The way she looked just then—with both hands on her hips, the ball beneath her left boot—your throat dried, heart racing; a sensation that’d familiarized itself to you during its recurrent visits over the past few weeks. Your mind blanked out, clear as the white of Alexia’s shirt, and when no words came to you to retort back, you shook your head and just laughed. By the time the game started—or maybe it was because it started—the feeling finally went away, replaced by the adrenaline that shot through your veins the moment Alexia kicked the ball to you.

It proved to be a tight game. The main strategy of the opposition seemed to be to mark and shut you and Alexia down whenever the ball so much turned your way. Alexia was right to trust your backline: any counterattack from the other team was dealt with immediately, and Julia only needed to save a handful of shots that passed through your defense, which she handled well.

At last, your team finally made a breakthrough.

Alexia cut a diagonal through the box, taking two of the defenders as she did, freeing up the space just behind her. You knew what she was doing so you faked a sidestep, turning quickly to lose your marker, before you sprinted in towards the middle of the box. And as you anticipated, Alexia sent the ball back to you with a flick of her heel. Now, if you could just—

The ground tilted, and there was a moment where the whole world suspended. It lasted for less than a breath before everything—the sensations and sounds—came rushing back in.

You slammed to the ground.

Air was squeezed out of your lungs from the impact, while your skull and teeth rattled within the confines of your skin; the taste of green, earth, and copper spread on your tongue. Muffled shouts and grunts filtered past the ringing in your ear but when you cupped a hand over your tender ribs, your resulting groan was all you could hear.

When you finally came to, Alexia’s face was over you, the doubled image of her finally merging into one. Her wide, hazel eyes looked on you with worry and you felt the warmth of her fingers as they grazed over your face: from your temples down to your cheeks which she took in a gentle cradle.

“Alexia?” You let out another groan as you turned on your back while Alexia helped you.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

There was a tension that constricted around the front part of your head, but you could feel the blood pulsing most on the side that collided with the ground. “My head… it hurts.”

“Okay, okay. Just lay down for now, I’ll get you…”

You seemed to have passed out after that because one moment you were lying on the fields, and the next you were beside Alexia on her living room couch. You had a vague recollection of being carried on Alexia’s back, but the feel of the strong plane of her shoulder against your cheek remained there, warm and comforting.

And only then, after Eli gave you ice for your head, did you see the bruise that bloomed deep in the skin of Alexia’s jaw, just below her left cheek, and the scuffed knuckles of her right hand which were splotched with deep reds and purples.

You took her hand onto your lap, gently running over the ice for your head over her knuckles, while you looked at Eli sitting on the opposite couch with Jaume beside her. Eli’s face burnt redder than you’d ever seen before, while Jaume held onto her hand, circling his thumb over the top of it in an attempt to calm her down.

Alexia remained quiet the whole time, eyes casted down as she took her mother’s reprimanding words. There was the unmistakable shine of shame in them, her guilt, but also an unwavering quality that stood for what she did. At the end of it, Eli and Jaume hugged the both of you before letting you retreat into Alexia’s room as you waited for your parents to arrive.

Instead of getting on her bed with you, Alexia plopped down on the floor just by the foot of the bed, her back against the wooden bedframe. You regarded the back of her head, her neck curved downwards, and you suddenly felt the need to be close to her so you shuffled off her sheets, and got down beside her.

“Thank you, but your mother was right, you know? You shouldn’t have done it, Alexia.” You mumbled, unfurling her fingers to rest on your knee so you could access more of her knuckles that way. Gently, you placed ice over it, but she still hissed in pain. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”

“Why not? He deserved it.” Alexia said evenly as she stared at the far corner of the room. “And before you start defending him, you didn’t see what I saw—what the rest of us saw. He didn’t even touch the ball—it was all feet. He meant to trip you up.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at her words—at how her action showed just how much you meant to her—but the discomfort in your gut marred the surge of your affection for her.

You took a deep breath, sighed it out, and it tasted like disappointment.

“Alexia, I appreciate the gesture, I do. But you can’t just hurt people just because they did something to me.”

Alexia puffed her chest and proclaimed, “I can.”

“Stop that nonsense, Alexia. I mean it.” Firmer now, you said, and there was a hint of desperation in the intonation of your words. There was an urgent need to make Alexia understand the gravity of what she did, what future implications it held if what Eli and you told her didn’t sink in now. “Actions like this can jeopardize you, Alexia, and all the things you worked hard for. Do you understand that? What will Alejandro say when he sees you all bruised up next practice? And if I get tackled dirty during a game and I get hurt, would you risk a red card, or suspension, for behaving like this?”

Alexia became silent, the muscle in her jaw working, and when she turned to you with her mouth open and you spotted a defiant crease in her brows, you were quick to stop her.

“If the answer to that question isn’t no, Ale, I don’t want to hear it.” The sound of teeth clattering filled the air. She casted her gaze aside again, her cheeks growing a shade deeper. “Look at me, Alexia.”

When she kept her eyes glued to the floor, you dropped the ice pack to take her face in your hands. She flinched from the coldness of your fingers but as you looked into her eyes, rimmed with redness and framed by drooping eyelids, you found exhaustion and the shine of apology. You brushed away a matted lock of hair from the tail end of her brow.

“You have a good heart, Alexia, but you have to promise me. Please don’t do something like this again. Ever.”

Alexia looked into your eyes, deeply as if in contemplation, and then she closed them. A moment later, she sighed, sagging into your touch as if a weight had left her shoulders, before she opened them again.

“I promise.”

This time, you believed her.

Smiling softly at her, you whispered, while you placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

Settling into the moment, you rested your head against Alexia’s shoulder, her bruised hand in yours. In the brief silence before your father arrived to pick you up, Alexia spoke in an earnest tone that made your stomach flutter.

“I know you can handle yourself, but that won’t stop me from having your back.”

At her words, your heart felt like it would burst your chest open. And you should’ve known that this was where you’d end up—with her, it seemed inevitable anyway—because the years of you’d known Alexia flashed quickly before your eyes, and the memory stopped to this person beside you, haloed golden by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, and you were hit with a realization that took what little breath you had away.

You liked Alexia.

And, even more importantly, you want her.

[6]

When you got on the field in a Barça jersey for the first time after your return, you didn’t expect to be welcomed like you did. Jona subbed you on after the first half and as you left the tunnel, you heard the crowd chanting your name. The cheers made you feel excited, accepted and seen, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t pressure you at all.

It was originally intended for you to come on during the last twenty minutes, but seeing as Caro, Patri, and Alexia gave the team a comfortable enough lead, Jona decided to sub you on ahead of schedule. You didn’t see much action on your end though, something that you didn’t mind at all—a quiet defensive-third was the best kind. The midfielders kept the midline high to sustain pressure in the offensive-third, while the defenders maintained such a tight backline that any loose through-balls sent to the opposing runners were called offside. Of course, there were a handful of times when you needed to get out of your box to ping the ball back into the offensive, but other than that, it was quiet. When the match ended, you were satisfied that Barça had another clean sheet and four goals to add to the season tally.

For the celebration, you moved with your teammates around Estadi Johan Cruyff, and during the procession, you spied your parents, Eli, and Alba who was talking to a raven-haired woman you’d never seen before, clapping and cheering. Warmth filled you upon seeing your family in the stands again—such a scene was a luxury when you were in the States because plane tickets weren’t exactly cheap—and when you felt the familiar weight of Alexia’s arm slung over your shoulders, the fabric of her captain armband against the skin of your neck, it felt like a perfect homecoming.

Well, almost.

After you’d showered and changed to your casuals, most of the crowd had gone while some lounged about, one of which was the raven-haired woman Alba was talking to. When Alexia took her hand, you knew instantly, and your heart—damn your heart—dropped.

“This is Diana,” Alexia said after the both of them made their way to you. And if it wasn’t their intertwined hands that revealed what they were to each other, their gaze—saccharine when they met—made it all the more clear the nature of their relationship long before Alexia said the words, “my girlfriend.”

Diana beamed up at Alexia, her cheeks deepening in color before she regarded you again, sticking her hand out towards you to shake. Preceding the intention, you took her hand and when you did, Diana placed her other hand over yours, clasping your hand between her warm palms.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Alexia’s talked so much about you.”

She did? Your eyes flitted to Alexia but when she shied away from that, you focused back on Diana’s face. She was stunning: with her high cheekbones carved to elegance, her brows following the perfect line of her temple, her full lips painted with a terracotta shade made deeper by the bronze of her skin, while her loose, straight, raven hair framed her face in such a way that accentuated the sharpness of her jaws. Her eyes were dark but still light enough to see the outline of her pupils, and they had an amiable shape that reflected her warm nature. And for some reason, her light brown eyes looked really familiar—

“Ah! My favorite cousin made it, after all! Although I’m not sure it was me you went to the game for!” Tori’s playful voice resonated in the near-barren corridor. Diana’s eyes flicked somewhere behind you—to Tori, you supposed.

“Don’t be like that, Tori, of course I came to see you, too!”

“Lies!”

Diana shook her head, laughing, as she took Tori in her arms. “Come here, you!”

In response, Tori said something in Portuguese that made Diana laugh. When they broke apart, Diana said, “Forget you? Never. Especially when I owe you one.”

“Owe her what?” Alexia asked with her brows creased with curiosity.

Diana took Alexia’s hand and squeezed it, looking up at Alexia with a gentle expression. “For giving us the chance to meet.”

“Damn right!” Tori exclaimed, putting both hands on her hips, as she grinned so wide that her dimple showed. Tori must’ve seen your confusion because she leaned in to whisper, “I brought Diana as my plus one for last year’s Ballon D’Or ceremony.”

You allowed your mouth to drop open before you smiled, letting out a small laugh that made your chest ache. “Ah, I see.”

“She kept complaining about going but now, aren’t you grateful I took you away from your precinct, Detective Beauregard?” Tori teased.

“She’s never going to let us live this down, will she?” Diana muttered dryly to Alexia but it was deliberately loud enough for all of you to hear. In response, Alexia threw her head back laughing.

“You’re a detective? That’s amazing!” You said, impressed.

“Please, Tori’s exaggerating. I work in forensics. DNA analyst is the correct title.” Diana threw Tori a dirty look to which the other woman raised her shoulders in response. “It’s a whole different world compared to yours so—and please don’t let this get to your head, Tori—I am grateful I was able to step into it.”

Her eyes, still locked with Alexia’s, grew all the more soft.

“Get a room, you guys,” Tori said with a mock sound of disgust, and then she continued to mutter, “And to think that you’ve only been going out for four months… I don’t even want to think about how it will be like in another three months.”

At that, Alexia raised a brow and then, “Want to do some extra laps tomorrow?”

You and Tori knew Alexia was joking, but Tori being Tori, she spluttered, “That would be a hard no, Captain. I’ll just—Have a great night!”

With that, she ran away, arms flailing behind her in an exaggerated manner as she hastily made her exit. The sight drew laughter from the three of you.

“We’re having dinner at Mamá’s, want to come over?” Alexia asked.

You shook your head, flashing a look at Diana, before you told Alexia,“Not tonight. I’m just about to head over to my parents’ as well.”

“Alright. But Alba’s going to ask about you, you know? I think she wants to hang out with you.”

You laughed. “Tell her to text me. She’ll know what that means.”

“Is that something I should know about?” Alexia smirked.

Flatly, you retorted, “If it’s something that concerns you, I’d be telling you by now, right?”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Alexia told Diana, almost whining.

Inching backwards, you said as dry as you could manage, “I’ll take that as my queue to leave, Alexia might start crying. She’s a crybaby, you know?”

“Hey! I’m not—”

“No need to be embarrassed about it, Alexia. Be proud!”

Diana only laughed, saying, “Alright, kids, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Nodding, you grinned at Alexia while she mouthed the word ‘bitch’ to you. In kind, you mouthed ‘smartmouth’ back. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave you one last hug, and after a pleasant goodnight from Diana, the three of you parted ways.

You sent them a look over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the watch around Alexia’s left wrist. It glinted as they walked together down the corridor, hand in hand, looking as in love as any new couple would.

The sight made you smile, but it felt heavy, and as if the universe wanted to rub salt to the wound, you found Patri outside the locker room when you turned around with a look akin to pity in her eyes.

[7]

The next day, Guille stopped by at your place. He’d given you notice a few days prior but even still, the moment you saw him behind the door, you squealed like you were ten again from your excitement. After you hugged him tight—he made a choking noise when you did to tease you—you held him at arm’s length to see what changes the last few months had done to him.

He looked different. Gone were the long, dark curls; now sheared close to his scalp that left only about an inch of length, his hair retained their luscious shine, their color still as dark as night.

His scar—the one just by the tail end of his left brow—that used to see little light from the obstruction of his hair, now stood apparent and without meaning to, the day he got it came back to you: the bruised knuckles, ice-cold fingers, and the warm blush of a lamplight.

And your chest ached a little.

Leading the conversation to the living room, the two of you ended up ordering takeaways—mostly for Guille’s benefit because you weren’t about to subject him to your football diet—and as you ate, the two of you caught up.

Guille was close to finishing his dissertation—the biomechanics of concussion in sport and its neurocognitive implications—and he was both excited and fearful about what would come next. He then talked about his girlfriend, Iris, smittenly if you might add. She was actually with him in the city, but his mother insisted she steal Iris for the day for some quality bonding, and you laughed at the repertoire of stories he’d relayed in great detail about his mother’s teasing of their relationship.

“When am I going to meet Iris?” You asked with a teasing tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re actually staying in Barcelona this time, we can arrange that.”

A pause, and then, “Is Alexia staying here, too, or are you here by yourself?”

“No, it’s just me here.”

“Oh. I thought the two of you’d be rooming again like—” Probably seeing your change in demeanor, Guille cleared his throat as he ate his pasta a bit too eagerly. “Speaking of, how is she?”

The question was casual but you knew it was anything but.

“She’s doing good, if not a little stressed. Our first Champions League game is just around the corner after all and it’s against Chelsea, so.” You shrugged to complete your thought. You knew what he was asking but you’d rather not talk about that.

His eyes could burn a hole on the side of your head by the way he stared at you in the silence that followed. Then he sighed deeply.

“She still doesn’t know.”

Tension filled every inch of your body and you shrank tight as a coiled spring. You stood up as you felt a sudden urge to get away from him, taking the used plates on the coffee table as a pretense to move from the couch to the sink.

“What’s it to you if she doesn’t know, Guille?” You asked flatly, rolling up your sleeves after you turned the tap on.

“I just want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

“And who says I’m not?” Your tone was flat and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, Guille only gave you a pointed look.

Then he said softly, “She could make you happier and you know it.”

And there it was again, that look in his eyes that you just couldn’t stand. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the edge of the sink and your voice quaked when you spoke. “Please stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you tried to find the words but when they evaded you, you huffed and threw your hands up in the air. “Why are you making it sound like I have a chance?”

“Because you do! You’re the one who’s not giving Alexia a chance by not telling her.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She loves you.”

A pause.

“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. As much as your heart wanted that to be true, you knew otherwise.

“It’s really fucking not.” Guille countered.

“If she did, she wouldn’t have said what she did.”

“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“That can go the other way, too. Alcohol has a way of loosening what’s been bottled.”

“Oh, come on!” Guille scoffed. “You’ve known her since you were eight. You’ve been through thick and thin together! Do you really think she wanted you to leave?”

With the reminder, the memory sprung up on you and you could hear Alexia’s voice, grating and wrenching your heart raw again when you heard the words from her lips. You whirled around to face him, eyes burning.

“You weren’t there when she told me, Guille!” You breathed out sharply and then you continued, in a lower tone filled with resignation, you whispered as you buried your face in your palms. “You didn’t hear the way she said it. You didn’t—”

You choked on your words.

After all this time, it was still too painful.

Darkness filled your vision but the tears escaped nonetheless, branding tracks down your cheeks. You heard the rustling of clothes followed by soft footsteps. Before you knew it, Guille’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and his familiar, comforting scent made you sink into the embrace.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there. But if you could forgive me for being an asshole and what I did to you, why can’t you do the same with her?”

You didn’t say anything after that, only clutched at his shirt a little tighter.

Guille kept quiet, too.

The both of you knew just the reason why.

[8]

“Did you see the news?” Jona asked as he kept the door open for you to an empty meeting room, closing it as soon as you’d gone in.

Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, you said, “I did.”

You saw it this morning and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t faze you.

Jona nodded, taking the chair across the table from you. He put his clasped hands on the wooden surface and the way he tapped an erratic rhythm with his thumbs didn’t help your nerves.

“Lyon paid a hefty transfer fee for her and that makes me worried. I don’t know what Bompastor is planning to do with her but her transfer to the European league will be a concern for the club.” With a pensive crease appearing between his brows, he continued. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“You want me to tell you what I know about her.”

He nodded, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “She’s a lethal forward and you’re the only one in the club who’s ever played with her. In fact, you two seemed very close during your time in Angel City.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back into your chair, frowning slightly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Jona blinked at you.

Then slowly, “Surely you must’ve trained closely together considering she’s a forward and you’re a keeper? Unless training was vastly different in Angel City, then I’m sorry for the assumption.”

“O–Oh, I thought you were implying—” You shook your head, uncrossing your arms as you waved the rest of your sentence away. “Never mind. But yes, that’s right.”

Jona gave you another questioning look before speaking again.

“She’s going to be a big problem. And that’s why I’m going to change things up a bit. I want to put you in the starting lineup as soon as possible—put as many games with our current team under your belt. We’ll most likely face Lyon in the Quarters and that’s unfortunate but what is great is that you’re here: the best counter to what Lyon acquired. If we could eliminate Lyon early, we have a higher chance of winning this year’s Champions League. The question is, are you ready for it?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Jona.” You said seriously, ignoring the pressure that pressed in the periphery of your mind.

“Use me.”

#ap11 #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #my writing #a/n: i'm just gonna drop this here lol #im really sorry for the very very very late update #had no time lately and after losing the first draft for this (8k words down the drain) my motivation kind of just fell off the cliff #but ive been rewriting this on the go for the past month or so so please forgive me for more grammar and spelling mistakes than usual #also im kinda jetlagged and sick atm so im planning to get to your messages as soon as i get my bearings back <3 #i hope youre all doing well and thank you for reading <3

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naomihatake · 6 months

Text

Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought.

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence.

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head.

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem.

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them.

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other.

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant.

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on.

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her.

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations.

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss.

God fucking dammit.

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless.

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie.

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream.

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him.

Kuina.

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep.

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away.

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh.

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts.

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence.

A witch, indeed.

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest.

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him.

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it.

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers.

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves.

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words.

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures.

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different.

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it.

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze.

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered.

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret.

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through.

The question made her shrug.

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?”

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight.

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life.

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking.

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms.

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.”

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air.

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.”

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others.

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought.

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.”

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience.

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing.

What was she thinking?

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up.

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles.

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it.

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.”

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand.

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened?

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not.

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore.

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him.

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome.

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up.

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him.

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs.

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it.

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good.

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago.

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress.

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea.

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure.

“Nightmares again?”

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch.

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again.

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it.

“Are you alright?” she blurted out.

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking.

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts.

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.”

“And you?”

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.”

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?”

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile.

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”.

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages.

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her.

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements.

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair.

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better.

She was a remedy. His remedy.

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze.

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad.

374 notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 2 months

Note

Heyyy gorgeous, another day another request! i was thinking about CEO human reader, she’s super rich, classy and very powerful woman. She also happens to be maybe a friend of Camille? And she catches Elijahs attention. They will meet on galas, auctions, operas etc. And he’s fascinated with her because of how composed and educated she is, they share hobbies, fashion style and so on. Aaaand one day he will pay her a visit in her office and it leads to some very smutty office sex… pretty please 🥹

Paperwork

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You approach a handsome philanthropist at a charity gala, leading to a stress-relieving meeting high above the city lights.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag I loveeee this idea (sorry I forgot to include Cami) ♡♡

5k words - Warnings: smut, slight dom!elijah, lots of banter, little bit of choking, public(ish) sex, Elijah being the relaxed one, a whole bunch of silly business jargon...

It was a part of your job to attend these stupid functions. It didn't feel like a party, a place to unwind, it felt more like a battle ground. Where the weapons were not guns, but witty retorts and carefully calculated smiles. It was all a show.

You hated it.

But the alcohol was good, food was usually tasty, and sometimes you got lucky. Because sometimes, you meet an actual interesting person. They were few and far between, but they were there.

This gala was being held at some museum or another. You couldn't quite remember, you had only been given the information a few hours before you had to be there, and hadn't bothered reading the pamphlet. Its Grecian architecture was impressive, if not a little pretentious.

You leaned against one of the pillars leading out onto a balcony, it was an impossibly warm Louisiana evening, and the breeze was welcome. You were grateful you chose your light silk dress for the occasion, rather than the heavy, floor length gown one of your assistants had chosen for you.

You observed a man standing a short distance away, looking up at a large painting hanging high on the wall. You couldn't quite see his face, but the suit he was wearing looked expensive. You were a little bored, and he at least looked a little interesting.

You walked up behind him, careful not to step too heavily in your heels.

"I don't care much for this style, myself." You said, not looking up at the painting.

He turned his head to look at you. "Is that so?"

He was handsome, almost startlingly so. The way the light hit him made his jaw appear sharper than it likely was. His lips were full and his hair perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place. But what really drew you in were his eyes, dark brown and intense, framed by long lashes.

You smirked. "It's a bit..." You glanced up at the painting, trying to find the right word. "Stiff."

He turned to face you, his eyes wandering up and down your body, before landing on your face again. He gave you a crooked smile that made your palms sweat, oh he wasn't just handsome, he was gorgeous.

"Stiff? I don't know, I think the artist did a very good job at conveying the... passion." He said.

"Where? In the brush strokes?" You said, taking a sip of your drink.

"No." He said, and his eyes moved away from yours and towards the couple on the painting. "There."

You turned your head and looked. A nude woman, her skin pale and hair blonde, laid on her back on a bed, the red covers thrown away and onto the floor. The man, his face hidden, stood at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to grip her thighs, as though he were about to climb on top of her.

You raised your eyebrows.

"You find that passionate?" You asked, looking back at him.

He shrugged. "I do. I think he was quite enamored with her, judging by the detail put into the painting."

"She looks like she's trying to take a nap and this creep won't leave her alone." You said, and he chuckled.

"Thus, the magic of art, my dear. What is interpreted depends on the person."

"Do you often interpret napping women as passionate?" You asked, and his smile widened.

"No, I prefer passion in the form of a willing, enthusiastic partner."

You took a sip of your drink. "And how do you go about finding one of those?"

He gave you a slow smile and reached out his hand, offering it to you. "Elijah, it's a pleasure."

"Y/n." You said, putting your hand in his and shaking it, firmly.

He kept your hand in his, bringing it to his lips, a move you would usually cringe at, but with him it seemed natural. He didn't seem like the usual crowd you had to deal with at these events. His voice, his posture, everything about him was elegant and his flirting was ridiculously smooth.

"Now that we're acquainted, what say you and I go find a little passion for ourselves?" He asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Your eyes widened slightly, and you laughed, pulling your hand away from his.

"A little eager, are we?" You asked, giving him a playful smirk.

"I just wanted to dance with you, why? Were you thinking of something else?" He gave you a knowing smile, and it made you laugh again.

"You're charming." You said.

"And you are beautiful." He said, extending his hand to you.

He was an excellent dancer, leading you expertly across the floor, even with the quick tempo of the song, he never faltered, not once. You didn't know how, but he could anticipate your next step, as though the two of you had rehearsed this for weeks.

"I like your dress, what brand is it? Prada?" He asked, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Yes, how did you know?" You asked, surprised.

"I own a few vintage pieces, I'm partial to the fall 2012 line." He said, his hands on your hips, holding you close.

"Really?" You asked. "The menswear one? It was villain themed, wasn't it?"

He nodded. "You have a love for fashion, I assume?"

"It can be a great investment if you pick the right pieces. The classics are usually the safest bet."

"Oh, I agree." He said.

You smiled. "So what do you do, Elijah?"

"I'm a philanthropist," He said. "I support local artists and historical projects and such. How about you?"

"I own a commercial real estate company. It's equally boring and stressful." You said. "What I do most of the day is paperwork."

He laughed, a delightful sound, and moved one hand from your hip, to the center of your back.

"Not fond of it?" He asked.

"No, quite the opposite, actually. If I could just get rid of the meetings I'd be thrilled."

He chuckled and spun you once. "You wouldn't be the first person to say that."

"What about you Mr. Philanthropy, how do you spend your days?" You asked, falling right back in step with the music, his movements as smooth as ever.

"Oh, you know," He said, his lips hovering by your cheek. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you,"

You leaned back a little, turning your head to give him a cheeky grin.

"Oh so it's family money then, is it?" You asked, and he hummed, his eyes narrowing playfully at you.

"Something like that. Enough to afford the finer things," He said, spinning you once, your dress billowing out around you like a waterfall.

He dipped you, his grip on your waist tight, as the song came to an end. You were breathing hard as you stood up straight again, letting go of his hand.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Mikaelson," You said, giving him a quick bow. "It's been a pleasure,"

"May I call on you sometime?" He asked, his hand still holding yours. "For a dance that is, and perhaps dinner afterwards?"

You looked at him, considering him for a moment, before smiling.

"Perhaps, Mr. Mikaelson, perhaps."

It had been a hellish week. A buyer had fallen through on the deal, costing you a lot of money. After the announcement, several of your employees began asking questions. About profit margins, about future strategies, about the acquisition of cheaper offices and rentals. It was difficult to concentrate, what with their constant stream of questions and their low murmuring at their desks as they talked about the whole ordeal.

Your company was also in the middle of a bidding war, trying to win a lucrative contract with the city to build several apartment complexes downtown. And on top of that, you had missed a shareholder's meeting because of a flight delay, pissing off several of them and creating several more holes in the schedule.

You were up to your neck in work, stressing out about everything.

Your phone buzzed and you sighed. Elijah. He has been texting you consistently ever since the gala, inviting you for lunch, or dinner, sometimes drinks at his place, hell, even just a walk in the park. He was polite, a true gentleman, but also seemed completely unaware of the fact that you didn't really have time for this stuff.

But it wasn't like you didn't want to see him, you did. You hadn't been able to get him out of your head since the gala. He was certainly an interesting person, a quick wit, and good taste to boot, but you didn't think it was a good idea. Your relationships tended to fall apart fairly quickly, most men you dated became intimidated by your success, or found the power dynamic to be a point of contention for them. Either way, it usually wasn't fun.

But god, his lips...

And his smile, you could see the mischief behind it, it made your stomach flutter just thinking about it. The way his eyes lit up when he laughed. It was intoxicating, you just couldn't...

You opened the text.

Free for dinner tonight?

You rubbed your temple, sighing.

Sorry, can't. Too much work. :)

You put the phone aside, only to have it buzz again.

I'm really good at paperwork, some say the best. Could lend a hand,

You snorted. Oh you could totally picture him helping you, leaning over you while you sat at your desk, both of you staring down at the documents, his breath on your neck, his knee touching yours underneath the wood...

God, your hands were sweating. It was almost embarrassing.

I appreciate that, but I have it handled. Just a rough week,

Another buzz.

Surely you've earned a break? I won't keep you for long, just dinner.

You groaned and slid down your chair, feeling your face burn up just thinking about being in a restaurant with him. You knew it wouldn't be a short date, he was entirely too distracting. No, anything he wanted you to do would surely eat up multiple hours, and you didn't have that kind of time right now.

Next time, You texted, then grabbed your sticky notes, writing:

'Please let this guy dick you down,'

And sticking it on top of your to-do pile.

You read the text over and sighed. Dinner with him sounded like absolute bliss right now, it was almost painful how appealing it was. But you couldn't.

You turned back to your work, letting yourself fall back into the sea of paperwork.

Hours passed and you were still stuck at the office. Dark had descended a while ago, and the lights of the city loomed brightly behind your window. You stretched in your chair and sighed, rubbing your neck.

Your phone buzzed again and you reluctantly lifted it up, watching a notification for another text come in.

Dinner at 730 it is, I'll pick you up.

You froze, suddenly confused. Did you agree to something? It couldn't be.

You dialed his number and held the phone up to your ear, sitting back in your chair.

"I don't recall saying yes to dinner," You said as soon as the phone connected.

He laughed. It was a glorious sound. You felt lightheaded just hearing it.

"Alright, you're busy, I understand, how about I come to you?"

You heard keys in the background, he was definitely leaving. Shit.

"Elijah, no, I don't... I can't," You said, scrambling around your office, trying to make it look less... destroyed. You shoved a pile of papers under the desk, along with a few cups and an empty wine bottle.

"I'm bringing take-out and coffee. You sound like you could use the caffeine," He said, completely ignoring you.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, dropping back into your chair.

"I don't want you to get bored," You said, weakly.

He laughed.

"Don't worry about me, darling, I have a secret."

You blinked. "Oh? What's that?"

You could hear him getting into a car in the background, then the deep rumbling of an engine as it revved to life.

"Being with you could never bore me. Tell me your address,"

You smiled. "I'll text it to you,"

He hung up and you sunk deeper into your chair, a goofy grin plastered on your face.

You spent the next twenty minutes trying to make your office presentable, mostly just moving papers off the floor and out of sight.

When he knocked on the door, you paused for a moment, before opening it. He was wearing a button up shirt and black slacks, both looking sinfully expensive and sinfully good on him.

The take-out smelled amazing, as did he.

"Your security needs updating, at the very least you should have a keypad." He said as he handed you your meal.

"Thank you," You said, ushering him inside. "I sent everyone home for the day, no need for them to stay late because of me,"

You put the food on a small table and sat down next to him on your sofa in the corner of your office, letting out a long sigh you didn't know you were keeping inside.

"That bad, hm?" He asked.

You looked at him and immediately regretted it, he was so distractingly gorgeous. His face, his lips, fuck his eyes, they had those crinkles in the corners, and that hint of mischief, his perfect jawline, everything about him set you on fire.

You shook your head and smiled. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Thank you, by the way, I haven't had time to eat all day."

"Next time I'll take you out somewhere more pleasant than this," He said, gesturing around to the cluttered office.

Your phone rang on your desk and you got up and scrambled over to answer it, Elijah giving you a confused look.

"Yes? O-oh..." You paused, standing up and pacing around, heading towards the window, looking down at the dark city.

"How long ago?"

Elijah was listening, his eyes fixed on you, the tone of your voice, the way you held yourself. You seemed calm, but the subtle signs were all there. You were upset, no, not upset, frustrated.

"Uh-huh, yes, no, thank you,"

He wandered over to your desk, to the many papers that covered it, some were marked with red, some with black, most of them had scribbles in the margins.

"Well, what is the point of a zoning committee if they can't do their job?" You asked, your voice smooth as silk, he enjoyed hearing you speak, the slight inflections in your tone.

A yellow sticky note caught his eye and he picked it up, smiling at what it said.

‘Please let this guy dick you down.’

He chucked and held the note up to you, raising an eyebrow.

You froze and your eyes widened, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. You cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself, but were unable to meet his gaze.

"I'll see what I can do." You muttered, feeling utterly mortified that he found your stupid note.

Elijah stood, tucking the note into his pocket and walking towards you. His hands pressing into the glass on either side of you, trapping you.

You gulped, looking up at him, completely forgetting about the person on the phone.

"I.. I'll have that information when the exchange opens in the morning,"

He leaned forward, his lips hovering by your cheek.

"Yes, I understand," You said, your voice shaking.

Elijah grinned, his hands coming down to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel him, all of him, his warmth, the hardness in his pants.

"Okay, I'll, uh, talk to you later, yes, thank you."

You ended the call and let out a long sigh, looking up at him. He took the phone from your hand and threw it over his shoulder, not even bothering to look and see where it landed.

"I'm going to give you some unsolicited advice," He whispered, his hands gripping your waist tightly. "So take it for what it's worth,"

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to say something.

"Take a break." He said, taking your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "Let me take care of you tonight, then get back to work in the morning, tomorrow. You're burnt out, you're going to make a mistake and you won't even notice."

"Your concern is noted, but unfortunately..."

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked, cutting you off. "Properly, I mean, when was the last time you were properly rested?"

"If you're about to offer up sleeping with you as a cure, Mr. Mikaelson, I assure you, it wouldn't do any good." You said.

"What makes you think I'm offering anything, other than a little relaxation?" He asked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Well, we're already pressed up against each other, and judging by the hardness I feel against my leg, you're not exactly unaffected." You said, your hand running over his chest, his skin hot under the fabric.

"I think it would do you some good, a rush of endorphins, a change of pace, it could relieve some of this tension you're carrying around," He countered.

You felt your mouth dry up at his words. A whole slew of salacious fantasies flooded into your mind as soon as they left his mouth, and you struggled to think of a snarky response.

"It's been a while for you, hasn't it?" He said, reaching down to the hem of your dress, pushing the fabric up your thighs, his fingers brushing over the skin.

You bit your lip, his eyes were glued to yours, watching every tiny reaction with great interest.

"How long?" He asked, his lips ghosting over yours.

"A gentleman doesn't ask." You whispered, a smile forming on your lips.

"I never said I was a gentleman," He whispered, his hands coming down, hooking underneath your thighs and lifting you up and pressing you against the window.

Your legs wrapped around him automatically, your arms going around his shoulders, pulling him close.

He kissed you and you melted, the warmth of his mouth and the heat of his skin was so comforting, it felt so good. You wanted to get lost in him, feel him all over, touch him, kiss him.

"See? That wasn't so hard was it?" He teased, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your phone began to ring again, and you pushed on his chest, trying to move away from him. He let you go, letting your thighs slip down his body until your feet hit the floor, the phone still ringing.

"I should..."

He grabbed your hips and spun you around, pressing you into the window, his chest against your back.

"You are in a very important meeting right now and cannot come to the phone," He said softly, his hand sliding up your inner thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress up and exposing you.

You moaned as he spread your legs with his knee as he pulled your dress up over your head, the phone finally stopped ringing.

"There, now we can be undisturbed," He said, his lips on your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His hands kneading your breasts, tugging at your nipples through the fabric of your bra.

Your breathing was heavy and fast, the cool glass against your skin a stark contrast to his burning skin.

You arched back against him and let out a strangled moan, his hands trailing down your body and his fingers slipping beneath your underwear.

You looked down to the streets below, the street lamps flickering and the headlights whizzing past as you gave yourself over to the pleasure of his touch.

He kissed your neck as he slid his fingers into you. You inhaled sharply at the sensation, his fingers curling and stroking over that perfect spot inside you. Your hand pressed into the glass, desperately needing something to hold onto.

Your hips rolled against his fingers as he worked them over your clit, you were starting to tremble, your thighs closing around his hand, squeezing as you started to come. He groaned in approval as he watched you come undone against the window, your arm braced against the glass and a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Good girl," He whispered, his arm holding your waist, his lips kissing and sucking on your neck.

He unclasped your bra, splaying his hand across your back and pressing you up against the glass, your breasts squashed against the cold window, a hot flush spreading across your chest.

His shirt was already unbuttoned, and it was quick work for him to take off his belt and slip out of his pants. You turned your head to look at him, and god, he was beautiful. There was a patch of black hair just below his belly button, trailing down into his pants, and thick dark hair lined his arms. But when your eyes dropped down, your mouth fell open, his cock was... Just as excellent as the rest of him.

"Do you like being on display for the whole city?" He asked, enjoying the way you seemed completely enraptured by him.

"No..." You said, a mischievous smile creeping onto your face. "They probably can't see me, just some shadow against the window,"

He grabbed your chin and kissed you hard, a bruising clash of teeth and tongue, driving you to madness with every breath. His other hand was already pressing you up against the window, his hips driving his cock forward and filling you up in one swift motion.

You cried out, nails scratching the window and your chest slamming up against the glass, a chill running through you as the cold pressed into your skin.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," He hissed, his hands gripping your hips hard.

"Fuck me," You demanded, pushing back against him, grinding your hips up into him, moving in a way that caused you to choke out a breathless cry, fireworks exploding behind your eyes.

"So bossy, so demanding, are you like this with everyone or am I just lucky?" He said, his eyes traveling over every inch of your body.

"Maybe I just want you to shut up and fuck me,"

He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back against his chest and holding you firmly as he fucked you.

Your knees felt weak, the grip he had on your throat restricting your airways, the pleasure burning into your lungs like hot lava. It was intense, your eyes began to water and your thighs trembled. Elijah's movements slowed, his pace becoming steady and smooth, rolling his hips gently, caressing you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, pressing soft kisses on your jawline. "You're shaking,"

You gulped and smiled, nodding. "You're just really good at this,"

"It's my favorite way to relax," He said, his lips tracing your ear.

You moaned at his touch, his lips feeling so soft against your skin.

"Look at them, look at all the little ants down below," He murmured, his thrusts increasing in intensity, his hand tightening around your throat. "Anyone could look up and see you, anyone. Your assistants, shareholders, a random stranger, just an anonymous face in the crowd, and they're all going about their night and here you are, above them all,"

It was intoxicating, looking down at the brightly lit city, even from this far up, you felt so high, you could fall into it all and lose yourself in the darkness, let yourself drown in the lights.

You pushed back against him, chasing the high he offered, your breath shallow and panting. His fingers raked down your skin, scraping over the flesh of your ribs, leaving your body covered in a trail of dark marks, claiming you.

His teeth bit into the skin of your neck as he pushed you back against the window, his hands over yours, holding them against the glass. He was rough and hard with you, snapping his hips and driving you up onto the tips of your toes.

"Mr. Mikaelson..." You moaned, struggling to keep yourself standing.

He chuckled and pulled you away from the window, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the sofa. You giggled and kicked your legs, but he kept a strong hold on you, carrying you over to the large leather couch and depositing you on it.

"There," He said, leaning over you and parting your legs, "more comfortable?"

"Very." You said, biting your lip as you gazed up at him.

He knelt between your legs, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling you towards him, his mouth latching onto your pussy, licking a path along the seam.

You breathed out a sigh, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, your hands reaching for him, holding onto his hair, his shoulders, whatever you could reach.

"So, tell me," He said, taking a moment to rest his chin against your thigh, "do you agree that tis is a good way to relax?"

You huffed and sat up, pushing his head back down between your legs. He laughed and got back to it, letting you pull his hair and fuck yourself on his face.

His tongue was warm and wet, his thumb rubbing you, stroking your clit in little circles, teasing you. You wriggled and writhed against him, his mouth, his hands, they drove you insane.

Just when you were about to come he pulled away, kissing his way up your body, licking your nipples, your neck, your ear, trailing soft kisses on your face until you opened your eyes and looked at him.

He kissed you hard, your thighs trembling. His cock was hard against you, pressing back inside you. You moaned into his mouth as you adjusted to the feeling of him, the sensation of being filled up.

You loved it, the way you tightened around him, pulling him closer, deeper. He was breathing hard, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile, his gaze constantly shifting, flickering from your mouth to your eyes, down to your chest.

His hand brushed against your cheek as he leaned back and began to move, gripping your waist and holding you close, his hips rolling into yours, finding a rhythm that made your toes curl, his voice murmuring your name softly in your ear, encouraging you to let go.

He smiled as you arched off the couch and dug your fingers into his skin, holding him to you. He wanted you close, skin-to-skin, every inch of you touching him, melting together.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring up at his face, his skin, slightly flushed, his eyes were bright and he was grinning. The sex was turning into something more intimate, an actual bond was developing between the two of you.

"I like you," you whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him close, your lips brushing against his, "I really like you,"

"Yeah?" He said, kissing you deeply.

"Yeah," you agreed, holding his face in your hands,

"It really like you too," He said, his thrusts growing deeper, stronger, more intense. He was chasing his own release now, desperate to feel you clenching around him, moaning his name.

You gasped and clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, your head thrown back, your eyes shut tight as you rode out the waves of pleasure flowing through you, and he followed right behind you, coming with a grunt, a low, quiet sound that made your stomach flutter.

He pulled out and sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, your back against his chest. You could feel his breath tickling your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back.

He pulled the blanket that was folded on the back of the sofa over the two of you, wrapping it around you and holding you close.

The room was quiet, silent, save for the muffled noise of the city below, the cars and the traffic, the random sounds of the distant city.

You felt relaxed, actually relaxed, like you were floating. His warm arms around you felt like a cocoon. He was watching you, his eyes tracing over your body, his fingertips featherlight against your bare skin.

"Can I pencil you in for another meeting tomorrow?" You asked with a grin, your fingers grazing along his forearms.

He pulled your sticky note out of his pocket, sticking it to your forehead, a soft rumble coming from his chest as he chuckled.

"Hmm, I don't know, do you want to make a habit of this?" He asked, his hands smoothing down the sides of your body.

"Would that be so bad?" You asked, leaning back against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Not at all, it's what I've been wanting since I met you," He admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Me too, you've been on my mind constantly," You said, tilting your head back and kissing him.

"I know," he said with a cheeky smile, tapping on the note stuck to your head.

"Oh, very funny," You rolled your eyes, relaxing against him, your eyes growing heavy as the weight of the day's events caught up to you.

"Sleep, love," He whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, his arms tightening around you.

"But I have so much to do," You protested, trying to sit up.

He held onto you, keeping you from moving, you didn't put up much of a fight. You wanted to stay right there.

"Work can wait until tomorrow, I have no intention of letting you go anywhere anytime soon," He said, his lips finding your temple, planting a soft kiss there.

"I can't just stay here," You said, a smile on your face as he ran his hand through your hair.

"Why not? You're the boss, you can do whatever you want," He said, nuzzling your neck.

You sighed, giving in and relaxing in his arms. It had been a while since you'd felt so content.

"Alright, maybe I can spare a few hours," You said, closing your eyes and allowing sleep to wash over you. And for the first time in a long time you fell asleep without a worry in the world.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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